


Starchild

by eugyne (AreteNike)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Brief Mention of Suicide, M/M, Mutual Pining, i super dont remember what happens in this fic lmao, weird mind-meldy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 10:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreteNike/pseuds/eugyne
Summary: Shiro and Lance are both wizards-for-hire and, technically, business rivals. but when some enemies come back from Shiro's past--enemies he thought were long gone--Lance is the only one who can help.(Written for the TEOU Shance zine that fell through.)





	Starchild

**Author's Note:**

> [so heres what happened to the zine ig](http://tootsonnewts.tumblr.com/post/181169985035/a-final-update)

"I bring a message," the crackling apparition states. The store windows have been blown out, the front door hangs in splinters. The lights flicker. "From the Witch."

"I don't want to hear it," Shiro chokes out. This can't be real.

The apparition brushes its floating hair out of the way, a curiously human gesture for something that is anything but. "Too bad," it says, and the lights finally give out, leaving it the only thing illuminating the shop. "She knows you, Shirogane. You can't escape her."

"I did," Shiro gasps. "She's gone. I don't know who you are or what you want—"

"And that's why you can't win against her," the apparition says, almost smugly. "I'll be seeing you."

And, as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanishes, leaving a faint metallic scent in the air and a very, very rattled Shiro.

He stays where he is for a long moment, on the floor in the dark. He may be an accomplished wizard himself, but projections, spirits, entities, whatever that thing was—he doesn’t know that much about them.

But he does know someone who does.

* * *

Lance's shop is closed when he gets there, of course, but Shiro is banking on him having felt the magic disturbance despite the late hour. Sure enough, when he knocks, Lance answers in seconds.

"What the hell _was_ that?" he asks the moment he lays eyes on Shiro.

"Something bad," Shiro says. "Something really bad." He pauses. "I was hoping you could tell me, actually."

Lance raises his eyebrows, then opens the door wider and gestures him in.

"It _felt_ like some kind of sending, but it must've been something really weird if you're coming to me," he says, turning on the light, and he pauses to look Shiro over. Shiro glances down at his own hands, flesh and metal both, and finds them shaking.

"And it must be really bad if it couldn't wait till morning," Lance adds, gentler. "D'you want tea?"

"I... wouldn't mind a cup," Shiro admits, because that's Lance's _other_ speciality: herbalism. "It definitely wasn't a normal sending."

"Tell me about it," Lance says, and guides him into the back room and onto a sofa.

"Well," Shiro starts, as Lance gathers his herbs, "it wasn't human. But it wasn't just an image, either, there was an actual presence there."

"A spirit?" Lance suggests.

"I've never heard of a spirit crackling like that."

Lance freezes, and turns. "...What color was it?"

Shiro frowns. "Purplish-blue, but only around the edges. It was pretty bright."

"The supplies in your shop—did they spoil? Crystals discharged?"

"I... I didn't notice. Maybe."

Slowly, Lance nods, and drops his herbs into a teapot. It starts steaming almost instantly.

"Did it say it was... sent by someone?" he asks.

Shiro has the feeling Lance has an idea what the apparition could be—and by the look on his face, it's nothing good.

"Yeah," he says cautiously. "It claimed it had a message from the Witch."

Lance pales. "She had a partner." It's not a question.

"The Emperor. But he's dead." Shiro runs a hand through his hair. "But then, I thought the Witch was dead too. I suppose it could have come from someone pretending to be them."

Lance sighs, and pours the tea. "No," he says, grim. "Starchildren can't lie."

So it's called a starchild. "Maybe it doesn't know?" he tries.

Lance, of course, shakes his head and hands him his tea. He sits heavily on the sofa with his own cup.

"Starchildren are magical constructs," he begins. "They're like physical manifestations of the relationship of two wizards—like a child, hence the name, except they have to be maintained. And they're arguably sentient, but they have almost no free will—just an immense amount of power."

Shiro swallows. That doesn't sound good.

"Basically, you hit the jackpot on terrible sendings," Lance says heavily, confirming it.

"How do I..." Shiro waves his hands vaguely. The thing said it would come back, and there are ways to block some kinds of sendings, but...

"You can't," Lance says bluntly.

"There has to be a way."

"Do you know where its parents are?" Lance sips his tea and gives him a pointed look. "Failing that—are you stronger than both of them combined?"

Shit.

Lance sighs and swirls his cup. "Drink your tea, Shiro."

Shiro takes a nervous sip. The tea's warmth settles in his stomach, and he could swear that Lance added a touch of magic to his cup because he can feel it settling his nerves already, heading off the incoming panic. He drinks more.

"Feeling better?" Lance asks, and Shiro nods meekly. "Okay. You pretty much only have two options: one, run away, and hope they don't find you." He holds up a finger. "Or, two, try and fight it off with a starchild of your own. That won't get rid of it permanently, obviously, but it'll hold it off long enough to track the source of the sending—and _that's_ a permanent solution. At least, once they're taken care of. Not by you, I hope. Maybe like, an entire legion of warlocks."

Shiro blinks. "You said it takes two wizards to make a starchild."

Lance raises his eyebrows at him over his cup.

So much for the calming tea—Shiro blanches anyway. "No—no, I can't ask you to do that. That's—you're not involved, it’s none of your concern."

"I'm volunteering," Lance points out calmly. "And you and I are the strongest wizards in the whole city—who else is gonna do it in my place?" He finishes off his cup and sets it aside. "Also, y'know, if the Witch is still around, that’s _everyone’s_ concern."

Shiro groans into his hands. Lance nudges him with his foot.

"Finish your tea," he says. "And be thankful we're probably compatible, because you'd really be fucked otherwise."

"Probably?"

"Can't say for sure until we try it." Lance nudges him again. "Seriously, drink your tea," he adds, and Shiro reluctantly looks up and picks up his cup again. "There we go. Anyway, our abilities are mostly complementary—I do plants and you do tech, that kinda thing.” He nods to Shiro’s enchanted prosthetic. “And if there were gonna be any serious conflicts between us we wouldn't both still be in business on the same street, y'know?"

Well, he isn’t wrong. Shiro takes a deep breath and lets it out.

"Okay," he says finally. "How do we make a starchild?"

"One more thing, before you commit to this choice," Lance says, "and I'm not saying this to scare you off, like, I am still willing to do this, but... it's pretty intimate. Mentally. It’s not full-on telepathy, but if there's anything in your head you really don't want me to know, it's gonna be hard to keep that under wraps."

That… is definitely a problem. Shiro groans.

"Go home and think about it," Lance suggests. "It's a really high-energy sending, so you've got a few days before they can bother you again anyway."

"And if I decide to do it?" Shiro asks.

"Then come back tomorrow." Lance gives him a crooked smile. "We have a lot to learn about each other."

Right. Okay. Honestly, there's only one real choice here—Shiro just has to talk himself into it. He sighs and finishes off his tea.

"Thanks, Lance," he says. "See you... see you."

Lance's crooked smile grows a little wider. "Yeah, see you, Shiro."

* * *

When Shiro wakes up in the morning, he is sure both that he doesn't want to run away again, and that if figuring out this starchild thing will put the Emperor and the Witch away for good, he really has no choice.

So he makes a half-hearted attempt at tidying up his shop—Lance was right, everything he had up front that _could_ spoil, has—and heads down the street.

"Here to spy on the competition?" Lance greets him with a wink, and nods to the stool behind the counter he's standing at. Shiro sheepishly makes his way around to join him.

"I can only stand so much cleaning at once," he says.

"So you've decided."

"Wasn't much of a decision," Shiro says.

"Granted," says Lance. "But if you're uncomfortable with it..."

"I am, but it's worth it."

Lance shrugs. "All right. You're welcome to hang around today if you want—in fact, it's probably a good idea that you do. And we can work over dinner?"

"Sure."

So Shiro hangs around—and as he does, he watches Lance. And there are some things he already knew; the way Lance doesn't need magic to charm those around him, for instance. If he hadn't seen it himself, the Yelp reviews (he checks them for both their shops religiously) would paint a clear picture.

But he didn't know the patient way Lance dealt with distraught customers, with children; he didn't know that Lance unconsciously bites his lip while examining a complex enchantment; he didn't know how delicately he tends to his plants, pausing a moment to check on them every time he brushes by.

Shiro's beginning to think there's going to be something else he doesn't want Lance to see in his head.

* * *

"I did a little more research last night," Lance tells him over dinner. "The spell itself is pretty simple. It's just... really likely to fizzle. No one gets it first try—even people a lot closer than we are."

Well, Shiro already knew they were at a disadvantage here. "We don't have a lot of time."

"Not much we can do about that, buddy." Lance gestures with his fork. "I know a few telepathy spells, if you wanna try that to speed things up. Or we can just, you know, talk."

"About things I'd rather not talk about, I assume."

"Well, it's now or it's later, but if we're gonna make this work it'll happen eventually."

Shiro looks down at his plate. He really doesn't want to talk about his past.

But, well. He can probably handle it if it's only Lance who knows.

"I'll go first?" Lance offers tentatively. "Um. I tried to kill myself in high school."

Shiro's head snaps up. "Really?"

"Yeah. Spent a couple months in the hospital..." Lance rubs his neck. "Obviously I'm okay now, it was a long time ago, but, yeah."

Somehow, Shiro hadn't thought there'd be anything Lance wouldn't want to share. But if he can do it, so can Shiro. He takes a deep breath.

"My first apprenticeship—my only apprenticeship—was with a wizard who... well, I knew he was shady." Shiro looks at the ceiling, the wall, his plate, anywhere but at Lance. "I figured I could still learn from him and avoid getting caught up in whatever he was doing. But it turned out he was working for the Witch."

"Shit," Lance mutters, and Shiro nods.

"She got... annoyed with him, eventually. And killed him. I took his place, because, by then, it was too late to back out." Shiro digs a hand into his hair, gripping it hard. "So... that went on for almost a year. Some warlocks found out and I was able to help them get in and take her down, eventually, so they didn't come down too hard on me. But it took another year before I could use magic again, once I was free."

"...How old were you?"

"When the Witch was defeated? Twenty."

Lance reaches across the table and lays a gentle hand on Shiro's arm. Slowly, Shiro lets go of his hair and relaxes, and finally meets Lance's eyes again.

Lance doesn't look scared, or shocked, or disturbed. He just looks sad.

"Like you said," Shiro says finally. "It was a long time ago."

"But she's after you again."

"Of course she is. I helped take her down."

Lance nods. And then, surprisingly, he smiles.

"Thanks for telling me," he says. "I get why you didn't want to, now."

No kidding.

"Is there anything else? I mean, that's probably big enough on its own, but you seem like you've had... really bad luck." Lance lets go of Shiro’s arm and gets up to collect their plates, waving Shiro away when he tries to help.

"No," Shiro says, and then hesitates. "Nothing bad, at least, just embarrassing."

"Oh, I'm the _king_ of embarrassing shit," Lance says cheerfully, and the mood lifts. "The secondhand embarrassment is gonna kill you, just wait." He looks back over his shoulder as he puts the dishes in the sink. "So? What is it?"

Shiro sighs and drops his head into his hands. "I just think you're pretty," he admits, and Lance laughs.

"If I'm pretty, you're drop-dead gorgeous," he says, coming back to the table. That's... that's something. "Ready to give the starchild a go?"

"As much as I can be, I guess." Shiro shakes his head to clear it and gets up stiffly. "What's the spell?"

* * *

Predictably, it doesn't work. There was the faintest glow between them, a flash of feeling, and for a moment Shiro thought it would work—then the connection snapped, leaving them standing there drained with nothing to show for it.

"That was close," Lance says eventually. "That's good. We might be able to do it in a couple more tries."

"Then let's try again," Shiro says, and Lance gives him a look.

"Aren't you exhausted? Just because it didn't _work_ doesn't mean it didn't take energy." Lance stretches. "If we try again now we'll get magic burn, or worse."

"I don't have a lot of time, Lance."

"I know, but if we try again now it'll just make things worse in the long run." Lance claps him on the shoulder. "We can try again tomorrow, okay?"

Shiro doesn't really want to admit it, but... yeah, he's exhausted. He sighs.

"Yeah, fine. See you tomorrow," he says, and Lance walks him to the door.

* * *

It doesn't work tomorrow, either.

* * *

"Dammit, we're out of time!" Shiro groans, frustrated, as they try and fail for a third time to make a starchild. By Lance's judgment, the Witch and the Emperor will have recovered enough to harass Shiro again, if they so choose—and Shiro has no doubt they will. The question is, how soon?

"Hey." Lance places a hand on his back. "We're almost there. Seriously."

Shiro forces himself to take a deep breath. "Sorry. I just... don't like being unprepared."

"I get it." Lance breathes, too, looking out across the room at nothing in particular. "I don't wanna go into this unprepared, either. Listen, it's not even 10 in the morning; go home, clean up some more, and come back tonight. We should be rested enough to give it another shot then."

Shiro had been planning to fully devote his Sunday to this, but, well. Lance is probably right; they shouldn't try again until the evening. All he can do now is drag himself back to his shop for the day.

So he does, and even manages to finish tidying up, too. Once he restocks, he'll be able to reopen again.

 _Just in time for the starchild to return,_ a little corner of his mind nags. He pushes it away. No matter how scared he is, he can't afford to stay closed forever—and he's not going to let the Witch dictate his life again.

Thus motivated, he heads back into the stockroom. He's got a little time still before he should head over to Lance's for dinner (he's really going to miss Lance's cooking when this is over... but he should probably return the favor, anyway), so he might as well at least see what he has and what he needs more of, for now.

He's finished with scrolls and is just moving on to crystals when there's a change in the air. A sudden increase in pressure that leaves his ears ringing, and... a faint scent of something metallic. Fuck.

He knew it was going to happen before they were ready.

Shiro runs out of his storeroom, leaps over the front counter, and bursts out onto the street. There's a pinprick of light there already, growing steadily, crackling with blue-purple energy. He starts muttering the words of the tracking spell—if he can cast it before the starchild is fully formed, it won’t notice—and glances down the street. He should've texted Lance the moment he felt something—but there he is, already running towards him. He must have felt it himself, just like the first time.

The tracking spell takes, though it'll take a while to produce results. Lance all but collides with him as the Witch and the Emperor's starchild takes form.

"I have returned," it informs them, and lifts one glowing hand to strike.

"Now or never!" Lance yells in his ear over the crackling, and takes his hand. They cast the spell.

It feels like a miracle—like something profound—when the light between them grows. Shiro can feel Lance's mind as clearly as he can feel their linked hands—he can feel the moment Lance realizes it's working.

He can tell when the starchild realizes, too, because it screeches and flings a blast of pure magic at the two of them. They dodge as one, ducking aside so that it hits the front of Shiro's boarded-up shop.

And their starchild grows into the shape of a woman, blue-white and beautiful.

"Face me, if you dare," are her first words, and Shiro is almost bowled over by the sudden affection they feel for this creature they have made together, however temporary she may be. Lance pulls him back, back towards the shop—and thank god this side street isn't a busy one, that late on a Sunday there are no bystanders to be hurt—and their starchild begins to fight.

At first, it seems, she matches the other's strength; they trade blow for blow, blast for blast. The tracking spell works steadily in the background, tracing the other's source, and Shiro begins to think maybe this will really work.

Lance squeezes his hand. _It's not over yet,_ he seems to say, without saying anything at all. And Shiro can tell—his strength is flagging.

Their starchild takes a blow that sends her reeling back, and Shiro urges her on, feeding her more energy—he's growing weaker, too, but the tracking isn't complete, they just have to hold out a little longer—and how long will the other starchild last? How much longer can they do this?

She lands two solid hits—one, two, pushing the other back across the street. It lands one in turn that sends her flying into Shiro's shop. She climbs out the broken storefront and flings herself forward again, and again, and again, and her glow begins to fade.

The tracking spell resolves.

 _Just hold out until they can't keep it up anymore._ Lance's bravado is false. They both know they won’t last long against a starchild when they've been drained from keeping their own going, and she isn't going to last much longer.

 _At least we're together._ Shiro's not sure which of them thinks it. Maybe it's both. Some kind of desperate affection is the last thing he feels from Lance before their starchild flickers out.

Back in his own head, the metallic scent is overpowering; they don't so much dodge the blast the starchild aims at them as collapse to the ground before it hits. They have to get up, Shiro knows, they have to run—there's no chance of fighting this thing anymore—but he can barely lift his head to look...

The starchild approaches. Its face is lost in the light but Shiro swears it's grinning.

A bolt of energy comes from somewhere down the street, then, connecting solidly and knocking the starchild aside. Shiro watches dumbly as it turns to face the unknown assailant.

"Warlocks," Lance whispers.

Of course. Even if they hadn't felt the disturbance themselves, in a city this large—someone must have seen and called them.

As the starchild screeches and fades away, as the warlocks approach, as the pressure in the air lifts and the scent lingers, Shiro turns his head and looks at Lance. Their eyes meet.

"Wanna stay for dinner?" he asks.

* * *

Dinner ends up happening at the hospital rather than Shiro's home; after the warlocks comes an ambulance, even though neither of them are injured. Shiro explains what happened on the ride in, Lance slumped against his shoulder, and a warlock assures them the Witch and the Emperor will be defeated once more—and for good.

They're released as soon as they can walk unaided, early the next morning, but it doesn't stop them from leaning into each other on the way home, anyway. They stop first at Shiro's, find the boards blown in, the building condemned—he'll have to go in and collect his things, later, but for now Lance tugs him on to his place, and so they collapse together on his sofa, too exhausted for anything else.

"Guess my shop's staying closed," Shiro says eventually. Technically he's homeless now, isn't he? It doesn't feel like a problem in this moment, not with Lance sprawled across his chest. They've hardly let go of each other since the battle.

"Move in with me," Lance mumbles into his neck, like he's still there in Shiro's head, and—yeah.

He can't even imagine refusing.

**Author's Note:**

> why does it feel like its been millennia since i posted a oneshot damn
> 
> find me [@maternalcube](http://maternalcube.tumblr.com/)


End file.
